Supernatural American Horror Story Crossover
by ladywinchester18
Summary: Sam and Dean search the Murder House.


SPN/ AHS Crossover

(Sam and Dean enter the Murder House)

On a sunny Thursday morning in June, Sam and Dean Winchester were passing through Los Angeles California after hunting a werewolf in Long Beach. Hungry and tired from ten hours of driving, and in much need of some beer and pancakes, Dean pulled into a small diner. They walked inside and a young waitress handed them each a menu as they sat themselves in a booth next to the window. The waitress, a young brunette with a pear shaped figure, smiled politely and offered them both coffee.

"How you doin' sweetheart," Dean flirted, flashing a crooked grin. The waitress smiled politely and nodded without answering his question.

Sam rolled his eyes and opened up that morning's local newspaper. An article on the third page caught his attention. It was a piece on a local tourist attraction called "The Murder House". The article described a mansion built in the 1920's that was rumored to be haunted by more than twenty of the previous homeowners. Every person who had lived in the house died of some grossly horrific death. The story of the house peaked Sam's interest.

"Hey, take a look at this," Sam said, shoving the newspaper in front of Dean, "It could be worth checking out."

Dean glanced at the article. "It's just a tourist attraction Sam. People pay big bucks if they think something has spooks in it. We have to get to Sacramento to bust that vampire nest Bobby's been tracking."

"Bobby's already got a lead on the nest and it's not going anywhere. Come on, let's just spend one extra day here and check it out. I just have a feeling about this one," Sam pleaded.

"Fine. But only one day." Dean agreed reluctantly.

Sam asked the waitress if she had a phone book. She looked at him quizzically because people seldom use phone books these days, but searched the back of the diner for one and loaned it to him. Dean called the first motel listed under the yellow pages and booked a room. After finishing their breakfast, they left a generous tip and headed out to do research on the house.

Sitting in the motel room, Sam opened his laptop and began to search local articles. He found multiple articles on every person that had died in the house, starting with the original owners. A surgeon had built the house for his wife shortly before the Great Depression. Times got tough, money was hard to come by, and building a house from the ground up is no small task. To raise a little extra on the side, the surgeon and his wife opened a secret abortion clinic in the basement of the house for young women who needed help. Word got out about the clinic and a disgruntled boyfriend of one of the women, as an act of revenge, kidnapped the surgeon's own child and returned the baby dismembered. The surgeon, in attempt to save his child, spent hours in his basement sewing ligaments of animals to the remains of his baby. Finally, after weeks of experiments and operations, his creation came to life. However, the monster he created was no innocent baby. Thinking his wife would be proud; he showed her his creation. Rather than pride she felt fear and humiliation. Unable to bear the public humiliation of the secret clinic, or the depression after the death of her baby, she shot her husband then killed herself. As if by some curse of fate, every single homeowner since then had died a horrible and tragic death inside the house.

Sam found a more recent story on a high school student named Tate Langdon. Tate's father died when he was young and his mother quickly remarried. Shortly after she'd remarried, Tate's older brother Bo died a random and suspicious death. As a depressed and confused teen, he finally reached his breaking point. One day he went to school, packing guns and knives under a large trench coat, and killed many students in a mass shooting. Later that day, the SWAT Team invaded his home and shot him.

After staying up half the night researching the accounts of all previous residents, Sam found an article on the most recent homeowners. "….It says here that the wife died in childbirth and the husband hung himself shortly after. Their baby was never found. It also says that they had a sixteen year old daughter who disappeared and was never found." Sam read aloud to Dean. The more Sam read, the more his curiosity was enlightened. "This house might be cursed. This page on the tourist site says that every single homeowner has died inside the house. Oh my god Dean, there's a list of like thirty people here."

The next day Sam went to the local library where he printed out several news articles and police reports. He collected a portfolio of the victims who had died in the house in the last eighty years. Using the best of his limited resources, Sam was able to find out where many of the residents had been buried. Meanwhile at the motel, Dean filled a duffel bag with salt, holy water, spray paint, lighter fluid, matches, iron, guns, and knives. After Sam had gathered all the information and Dean had loaded the supplies, they set out on a hunt.

It was 8:00 and dusk was approaching. Dean parked the Impala in an empty lot two streets away from the house, and walked toward the house at a brisk pace. Coming up to the house they could see that the front gate was closed but not locked. The rusty gate creaked loudly as Dean pushed it open and the two brothers cautiously surveyed the front lawn. Upon entering the house, Sam pulled out a jar and poured a line of salt along the door frame and in the windowsills. Dean shook up a can of red spray paint and drew a devil's trap in front of the door as precaution.

"I'll go upstairs; you check the rest of the house." Sam said to Dean, gesturing toward the grand stair case in the front hall.

Sam ventured upstairs while Dean continued to search the main level. He poked around in the kitchen, looking for traces of supernatural activity and continued to walk down the main hall. He entered the study and his EMF detector went from green, to yellow, to red, and buzzed loudly. Dean was caught off guard by what he saw next. Amongst the dusty books and musky mauve lounge chairs, there was a beautiful red haired woman dressed in what appeared to be a naughty maid costume.

"Well, do you work here often or just on Fridays?" He joked, grinning and lowering his gun. The maid winked back at him and slowly leaned over, pretending to dust a low book shelf, and quite obviously thrusting her hips outward. Placing his gun is his coat pocket, Dean slowly reached for the blade attached to his belt loop, but paused. _There's a first time for everything_, he thought.

Unsure of what to do next, but tempted to do one thing, Moira made the decision for him.

"I'm Moira. Sssh, don't talk." She cooed, coming closer to him and breeching past the comfort zone of personal body space. She pressed her index finger against his lips and then brushed the back her hand against his right temple. She put her right hand around his waist and pulled him close to her. Pressing his muscles against the curve of her hourglass figure, she leaned into him and aggressively pushed him against the wall. She passionately kissed him on the mouth, then pulled away for a brief moment to look into his green eyes, and continued kissing him. It had been years since she'd kissed a man with green eyes. The only men in this house had blue eyes and she was getting tired of them looking at them. (Doctor Harmon and Travis just weren't enough anymore.) Here, she had the golden opportunity to throw herself at a new piece of meat. With his hand still on the knife, Dean lost control of his senses and gave in to her. Her lips tasted like wine and her neck smelled like perfume.

Precariously watching his steps, Sam made his way to the top of the spiral staircase. He flipped on the light switch and treaded down the hallway as if he were stepping though a minefield; surveying his surroundings and shifting his eye sight from left to right. A shadow moved at the end of the hallway and he felt a sudden chill in the air. _Ah ha, I'm coming for you. _He thought naively as he confidently made his way to the end of hallway. The lights flickered, once, twice, three times; there was a quiet buzzing sound, and then total darkness. _Son of a bitch_, thought Sam. While he was momentarily caught off guard, a pair of rubber clad arms wrapped themselves around Sam's neck and shoved a damp cloth in his mouth. Sam thrust his right elbow back, punching the attacker in the upper rib cage. Thrown back by the blow, the attacker clasped his hand to his ribs. In the moment of release Sam turned around and put his arm around the attacker's neck, putting him a choke hold. He couldn't see the attacker's face because the phantom was wearing a black rubber suit that covered his entire body. Sam smashed the rubber man's head against the wall multiple times and then threw him to the ground. He then ripped off the man's rubber mask and immediately recognized that face from nearly every article. It was Tate Langdon. He opened a container of salt, dumped it all over Tate, and listened to him cry out in agony as he ran back downstairs to find Dean.

When he found Dean, he almost wished he had stayed upstairs. He found Dean, sitting on the couch, making love to an old woman.

"What the hell Dean?" Sam yelled out with a combination of confusion and frustration. (That's the thing about Moira; she is the window to the soul. Everyone perceives her appearance differently.) Flabbergasted, Sam took a handful of salt and threw it at the old woman.

Angered by Sam's reaction, but also embarrassed that his brother had walked in on such an intimate moment, Dean wasn't sure how to react. Not wanting to continue the conversation or even know what Dean was with someone's grandma, Sam proceeded to tell Dean what he had found upstairs.

"In case you were wondering, I found Tate: that teenage boy who killed all those kids in the school shooting. I scared him off with some salt, but you know what we gotta do. Burn the bones. Here, I've got a list of all the burial places I could find. At least ten of them are in the local cemetery."

"Ten?" Dean exclaimed, "Ten? No way man. It's hard enough digging up one grave."

"There's been almost thirty victims in this house Dean. Yes. Ten of them are buried in the local cemetery."

"Okay, we can't gank them all." Dean reasoned "Let's do what we can though. How about we pick two."

"Fine. Let's burn Tate and the old lady."

"What old lady?"

"The old lady you were banging while I was fighting for my life! Where were you Dean? I could have used you. What the hell is wrong with you? You've had some low standards for women in the past, but that – that was just wrong."

"Old lady? You mean the maid? Are you blind Sam? She was hot! Capital H – O – T. I mean, she was coming on to me and…" Momentarily Dean looked transfixed on his vision of Moira. "Sam, I know you don't have a deep appreciation for women, but you don't come across a body like that every day."

"Okay Dean, whatever floats your boat." Sam chided, slightly disgusted by Dean's apparent new fetish for older women.

According to Sam's research, Moira's body had never been found. She had worked for Tate's mother Constance; however, rumor had it that Moira was having an affair with Constance's husband. Constance had been accused of killing bother her husband and Moira. She was put on trial but the evidence was inconclusive and Constance was never charged.

"If they never found Moira's body, then chances are Constance buried her on the property," explained Sam.

"Awesome. Let's go dig up the bitch," muttered Dean.

Sam and Dean went through the kitchen and out the side door. They wandered around the property, waiting for the EMF detector to give them a sign. As they passed a worn down gazeebo, the EMF detector switched from green to red and began flashing and buzzing.

"Looks like this is it," Said Dean, tossing Sam a shovel. They each began digging. Suddenly Sam felt a sharp pain in his right thigh. Tate had returned, still in the rubber suit, and stabbed him. Realizing what had just taken place, Dean ran over to aid Sam. Tate proceeded to wrap his arms around Sam's neck and shove a chloroform soaked rag in his mouth. Dean punched Tate in the side of the head, knocking him off his feet. While Tate was on the ground, Dean repeatedly kicked him the side as hard as he could. Still, Tate managed to get on his hands and knees and was attempting to stand back up. Sam pulled an iron chain out his bag and tossed it to Dean. Dean wrapped the chain around Tate so that he was unable to move. The iron burned Tate's skin and yet he was unable to make himself disappear. Sam shoved the chloroform rag in Tate's mouth and he was passed out in a matter of seconds.

Once he had regained is stability, Sam looked down at his blood soaked pant leg. He took a swig of liquor and cringed as he splashed some on the wound. He ripped off the bottom half of his pant leg and tied it around his thigh as a make shift bandage. After taking another swig of liquor, he continued to dig next to Dean. An hour later they dug deep enough to find a wooden crate. With a hatchet, Dean cracked open the crate and there lie a decaying skeleton, with the portion of the skull around the eye socket completely missing. The true marker of the skeleton's identity was the tattered maid costume clinging to the body. He dumped gasoline all over the body and tossed a match on her.

"Burn bitch burn," Dean said, watching the flames dance before his eyes. Moira appeared briefly with a look of confusion on her face. She screamed in agony as she felt her body burning and her soul was released from this world into another.

"You're next," Dean said, glaring at Tate. They got back in the Impala and headed out to the cemetery.

Tate had been buried in the Forest Lawn Memorial Park, just outside of Los Angeles. His grave wasn't hard to find since it was in the wealthier section, with an enormous angel statue and a granite headstone that read "RIP Tate. You will always be loved." It took about an hour and half to dig up the grave. Once he had reached the sleek black casket, Dean chopped it open with an axe. Dean let Sam do the deed on this one. Sam dumped a generous amount of gasoline in the hold and tossed in a match. The brothers stared into grave until the body was completely decimated.

"How about that vamp nest?" Dean commented, breaking the silence. They drove off in the Impala preparing for their next hunt.


End file.
